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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807850">The Devil's Backbone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian'>Polyhexian</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, POV Third Person, continuity soup, there's no noncon in this but they ARE gonna talk about it so please be warned, vaguely mid-war IDW but don't worry about it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:27:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,118</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807850</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyhexian/pseuds/Polyhexian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex is not a mech known for paying his dues, but there's a first time for everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>First Aid/Vortex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>96</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Raised on the Edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It took Vortex over a minute to find the strength to spit skunked energon out of his mouth, laid bare where he was in the once-battlefield, rendered now a mass grave. Through cracked optics he could make out bleary motionless shapes laying in discarded piles. As fritzed out and empty as he was, he couldn't identify faction symbols, couldn't tell one corpse from the next. In the dimming twilight, no one was an Autobot or a Decepticon. They were just dead.</p><p>Vortex managed to tilt his head when he heard a distant crunching sound followed by the scent of rotten energon and burnt oil. He couldn't be sure how long ago the battle had ended- hours, days, maybe more, he'd been knocked offline at some point and left among the dead and the dying to peter out on his own time. The infamous Decepticon interrogator, reduced to <em> this. </em></p><p>The crunching sound grew closer, but he still couldn't quite identify what it was or why it was happening. He struggled to force his limbs to obey him and reach for a weapon, something with which to fight off whatever was coming- he didn't want to die like this, weak and pathetic and snivelling in the dirt. No, he wanted to die on his <em> feet. </em> He wanted to get stabbed in the chest and bleed out right then or get decapitated or burned alive or assassinated with a well placed headshot- something that would end his personnel file on an appropriately gorey note. </p><p>A hazy shape moved close enough for him to see and finally identify to some degree- some mecha, cracking open chest plates as he moved through the bodies. A scavenger, then, no doubt. Vortex grit his dentae and his palm found a blaster, wrapping what was left of his right hand- just two fingers and a thumb- around it, trembling from the exertion. </p><p>When the scavenger seemed to notice him and approach, Vortex threw himself to the side with great effort, heaving his arm into the air and firing at his aggressor. They cried out as he landed a shot in their shoulder, and he cursed through static he hadn't landed a fatal wound. He'd only pissed them off.</p><p>"Oh, <em> give </em> me that, you idiot!" the shape snapped, grabbing for his blaster. Vortex tightened his fingers in a death grip around the handle.</p><p>"Kill me first," Vortex snapped, spitting energon as he did, "Kill me <em> right.</em>"</p><p>"I'm not going to kill you," the sharpening figure responded, and he registered finally the white and red paint scheme. A medic. "I'd <em> like </em> to save your life, if you'll let me."</p><p>"You're an Autobot," Vortex observed, and the medic finally snatched the gun from his hand, the servos within snapping and giving out as he released it. </p><p>"At least your optics are still working," the stranger commented dryly, and before Vortex could muster up the energy to stop him, pried open his chest plating, hands burying themselves in circuitry without any hesitation. "My name is First Aid."</p><p>"You Autobot medics are morons to repair your enemies," he slurred, "You know one day I'm going to get back on my feet and kill all your friends if you get me moving again, right?" </p><p>"I know," First Aid said, but nothing more. Vortex grinned behind what remained of his blast mask.</p><p>"And you, too. If I could kill you right now I would, and if you get me the strength to try I will," he said, a bit of a laugh creeping into his voice.</p><p>"I know," First Aid repeated, "But in the state you're in, I could kick your aft, so you won't."</p><p>Vortex stopped. He wasn't used to being blown off like this. He wasn't playing the game right.</p><p>"Don't you know who I am?" he tried instead, "Don't you recognize me, Autobot?"</p><p>"No," said First Aid, grabbing something from his medkit and stripping it with his teeth, "Who are you?"</p><p>"I'm <em> Vortex, </em> " he hissed through sharpened dentae, "The Combaticon turned interrogator. I <em> torture </em> Autobots, medic. I send them back to you <em> begging </em> for death."</p><p>"Very dramatic, but usually they're begging to live. At least until I sedate them."</p><p>Vortex frowned. He was <em> not </em> playing the game right.</p><p>"Fine. Make this no fun," Vortex groaned, and let his head think back, "Goddamn Autobots. You're all so fucking serious all the time."</p><p>"I don't know what part of <em> war </em> I'm <em> not </em> supposed to take seriously."</p><p>Vortex bubbled with laughter that hurt his chest just right. "Is <em> that </em> an Autobot joke? <em> All of it. </em> How can you live being so <em> serious </em> all the time? How could you stand waist deep in corpses if it <em> wasn't </em>hilarious?"</p><p>"I think you have head trauma," First Aid commented, tilting his helm to the side, "Here. Sit up."</p><p>"I can't sit up."</p><p>"Yes, you can."</p><p>Vortex found, to his surprise, that he could. He hefted himself up with a grunt, leaning forward as the medic fiddled with his rotor housing.  He huffed a deep wheezing sigh through his cracked vents as something finally snapped back into place and a deep burning pain he hadn't fully realized he was experiencing began to abate. He realized, with some amount of dismay, he probably wasn't going to die here after all.</p><p>"Taking me prisoner, then, huh?" he huffed.</p><p>"You'll be treated fairly," First Aid answered, "We have standards for how we treat PoWs."</p><p>"Keep telling yourself that," Vortex mumbled.</p><p>First Aid sighed and shoved him back to look him in the optic. "Look. I give you my word, alright? You might value torture, but we <em> don't. </em> I'm not going to let anyone mistreat my patients."</p><p>Vortex raised a curious optic ridge at him. He opened his mouth to respond when he felt a familiar warmth bloom suddenly in his spark- proximity to his gestalt. He shoved the medic over into the body pile just before he heard approaching footsteps.</p><p>"What are you <em> do-!</em>"</p><p>"Play dead, moron!" Vortex hissed, heaving up another corpse on top of the medic to obscure him from sight just before Blast Off rounded a corner and came into sight.</p><p>"Well, well, well, you're alive after all, huh?" he chuckled, setting his hands on his hips, "I owe Brawl fifty shanix."</p><p>"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he spat, "Come over here and pick me up. My legs are broke."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah, crybaby." Blast Off rolled his optical display and picked him up, heaving the helicopter over his shoulder. "Onslaught's already waiting. Try not to get yourself scrapped next time, huh?"</p><p>"I make no such promises," Vortex grumbled, as his gestaltmate carried him away from where he'd been dying a few minutes prior. Vortex eyed the sliver of red and white hiding in the corpse pile as he did, the pale blue glow of a visor peeking out, watching him back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Hangman's Knot, and Three Mouths to Feed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First Aid shifted in place, pede to pede, unable to ignore how tired his feet were, how raw his wrists felt from their time in stasis cuffs. It was too hot, too dry on this awful planet, and he was getting tired of the smell of exhaust fumes and death. </p><p>He was hardly the worst off, though. He was in better condition than the rest of the Autobot stragglers that had been rounded up with him when Decepticon reinforcements had arrived unexpectedly after the day's battle had run itself out. Roughly a dozen strong, their group was made up of him and the wounded, who'd stayed behind for a follow-up transport. A transport that should have arrived ages ago. First Aid wished he was surprised that Autobot command had determined them not worth the effort of mounting a rescue effort for, but he really wasn't. </p><p>"Come <em> on,</em>" a Decepticon that First Aid recognized as Deadlock moaned, leaned back against a rock to get some meager shade and respite from the desert sun, "He's not picking up. Let's just trash them all and go."</p><p>"Megatron <em> said </em> to take prisoners if we were able," answered his superior, someone he knew to be named Turmoil, "Dreadwind will answer eventually." </p><p>"Look at them!" Deadlock insisted, "Most of them are on death's door anyway. Are they even <em> worth </em> taking prisoner?"</p><p>"For the scrap metal at least," Turmoil mumbled, "You know what Tarn's been working on."</p><p>"Yeah, and it's gross." </p><p>"Hey!" called another Decepticon as he jogged up, "What's the hold up? The boys are wondering why we're still here and they're starting to get antsy."</p><p>"Try to keep them on their leashes, Onslaught," Turmoil groaned, "We're waiting for Dreadwind to show up with a prison ship. We don't have the space to take prisoners."</p><p>"Isn't Dreadwind at Grindcore?" Onslaught asked. Deadlock groaned, thunking his head back against the rock.</p><p>"Wonderful," Turmoil muttered, and turned back to the prisoners to look at them anew. Onslaught returned to the group lingering in the distance and First Aid swallowed thickly. This was not good news.</p><p>"That's it then!" Deadlock snapped, throwing his hands in the air, "Dreadwind's not coming! There's no reason for us to be sitting on this dumb rock anymore! Let's just skunk 'em and <em> go. </em>"</p><p>First Aid felt his spark frequency increase it's pulserate in his chest. This wasn't how he wanted to die. He didn't want to die at all, but like this? It was too pathetic to think about. It was meaningless. His vents fluttered jerkily, seeking cool air as the panic began to set in.</p><p>"You know I hate agreeing with you," Turmoil admitted, "But that's probably in our best interest. You're right. They're not worth very much, anyway." </p><p>"None of them except the <em> medic, </em> you mean, right?" interrupted a new voice as a blur of greys and teals and purples bolted around the arguing ranking Cons and came to a stop in front of them, hands on his hips.</p><p>"What?" Deadlock said in a dry voice that sounded more like a dare to answer than an actual question as he looked up.</p><p>"The medic," Vortex repeated, gesturing at him, "He's barely got a scratch on him! Autobots will do anything to get their medics back, right? He's great trade value, <em> and </em> he's gonna be handy to have on board until they give us something good for him."</p><p>"You're planning on letting an Autobot prisoner fool around in your internals?" Turmoil scoffed.</p><p>"I've never heard you advocate for <em> not </em> murdering someone in your life," Onslaught observed, joining them, "What game are you playing?" </p><p>Vortex set his hand back on his hip, rotors fluttering before he leaned back with a dramatic sigh and shrugged as if caught stealing a cookie past his bedtime. "Oh, fine, you got me!" he chuckled, spinning on one heel to slide behind First Aid suddenly, wrapping his arms around his waist and setting his chin on his shoulder. "I think he's cute."</p><p>First Aid went through a variety of emotions. His initial response was for his mind to go completely blank, and by the time it rebooted and began to process the instruction to elbow him in the gut and go down fighting, the three commanders had turned to look at each other.</p><p>"Play along," Vortex hissed in his audial, previously jovial voice suddenly serious. First Aid halted in his planned attack, processor swirling through potential outcomes, what would be worse, and before he could make his mind up the others had turned back.</p><p>"Fine," answered Turmoil, "But since we don't have anywhere to <em> put </em> him, I'm sticking <em> you </em>with babysitting."</p><p>"Primus, now that Vortex has his sex slave can we <em> go?</em>" Deadlock groaned.</p><p>"In just a second," Turmoil replied, and raised his gun at the line of prisoners as Vortex grabbed First Aid by the cuffs and dragged him away, toward the ship.</p><p>First Aid did not look back, visor blacked out and head ducked until the screaming stopped. When he looked up again he was in the hangar of the Decepticon's ship. His feet moved under him, numb and heavy, like blocks of stone he was puppeting with strings, tugged forward by his wrists toward he knew not where.</p><p>They stopped in front of a door in a hallway where Vortex typed in a key code, and when the door slid open, he pushed First Aid inside, followed behind him and then turned swiftly to mash at the inside keypad, swearing under his breath.</p><p>First Aid's faculties snapped back to him when he realized where he was- clearly personal quarters, a sparsely decorated bedroom, bare of the essentials except for a few scattered trinkets and a precariously rigged hammock in the corner. This was Vortex's room. There was a berth in Vortex's room. He was in Vortex's room.</p><p>First Aid felt a rush of fever panicked strength in him like he'd never felt before and smashed his wrists into the wall with all the force he could muster, shattering the cuffs and snapping one of his wrist struts in the process. In addition, though, it allowed him to freely transform his arm again, and he did so, flipping the hand inside and replacing it with a medical scalpel he immediately held up to his own throat.</p><p>"Don't even <em> think </em> about coming any closer!" First Aid snarled, a cornered animal with energon in his audials and shaking in his hands, "I'm not afraid to die. I won't give you the fucking satisfaction."</p><p>"Primus, don't fucking kill yourself right after I put my neck on the line saving you, afthole!" Vortex snapped, spinning around, "I'm not going to fucking <em> rape </em> you."</p><p>"Well I'm certainly not going to <em> consent! </em>"</p><p>Vortex threw his hands in the air. "I had to say <em> something! </em>"</p><p>First Aid hesitated. "What do you want from me?"</p><p>"I want you to go <em> home,</em>" Vortex groaned, leaning back against the door. "Look, I'm not usually one for paying my dues, but I hate to kill people who make it a habit of saving my life."</p><p>"I only did that once," First Aid pointed out.</p><p>"Yeah, and I'm really hoping I can endear you to do it again, should the opportunity arise," Vortex said dryly, "For Primus sake, put that away. If I really wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be able to stop me. I'm faster than you."</p><p>First Aid full-body shuddered, but he knew he was right. With only a moment's more hesitation, he transformed his hand back. Vortex relaxed.</p><p>"Fantastic. Okay. Great," the helicopter grumbled, "Alright. Okay. Let me lay down the ground rules here." He took a deep breath and carded his hands together. "<em>You </em> are going to stay right here in this room <em> until </em> we arrange a prisoner trade with your friends. If anyone asks, I am <em> absolutely </em> abusing the hell out of you. You will <em> never </em>tell anyone I went soft on you or I'll make sure you really understand where I get my reputation, got it?" </p><p>First Aid looked him up and down, re-processing all the information he'd been given this far, furrowing his optical ridge down over his visor in thought. "You're <em> serious.</em>"</p><p>Vortex rolled his optical display. "I'm never serious, Autobot. I'm <em> honest.</em>"</p><p>First Aid relaxed somewhat, feeling more awkward than panicked, suddenly. "Uh… alright, I guess. I can play by those rules."</p><p>"Fantastic!" Vortex cried, clapping his hands together. "Berth is yours. I never use it. And remember, you can kill me in my sleep if you want, but you know that only means you'll get immediately and unpleasantly killed by the next Con you run into. So I would advise against it."</p><p>"Fair enough."</p><p>"For now, I have <em> work </em> to do." Vortex pointed at the datapad on the desk. "There's a book if you get bored. I'm locking the door. Test my patience, even a little bit, and I swear, I will make you teach me to remove your fuel tank so I can <em> feed </em> it to you. Understand?"</p><p>"Don't touch anything," First Aid agreed, "Got it."</p><p>Vortex pointed two fingers at his visor and then back towards First Aid silently as he slipped back out of the door and First Aid heard it lock manually from the outside.</p><p>He looked around, now feeling overwhelmingly awkward as the adrenaline as beginning to fade and the grim reality was beginning to set in. The room was small, dark, a bit leaky, and overly sparse. Upon investigation the datapad contained something First Aid would describe less as a book and more of as a graphic novel, and he recognized the hammock as something Blades also preferred, back home. He knew that flight models often had really specific recharging requirements- a lot of them just couldn't lay on their backs comfortably. </p><p>In the single cabinet he found some touch up paint, some kind of video game called <em> Sword Art Online </em> and what he thought might have been an anime figure. A bizarre and sparse collection, until he checked the top shelf and found in the dust an old photo of the Combaticons in younger frames and an old pseudo-matrix- the tiny kind, cast in gold or silver and meant to be subspaced for good luck. An unexpectedly religious object for an emphatic torturer. First Aid returned the items to the shelf he found them on. </p><p>He returned to the empty berth and found it <em> did </em> feel as if it hadn't been slept in recently. In the absence of anything else to <em> do,</em> and with the overwhelming exhaustion of a day of battling and nonstop fear for his life, eventually, he curled up against the wall and let the void consume him and take him away from this place and these people.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. There wasn't a wrong or a right he could choose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First Aid was jolted out of recharge when he heard the beeping noise of the habsuite lock deactivating and scrambled to sit up, prepared for anything.</p><p>Vortex was humming when the door slid open, expression casual, hands behind his back. The door shut behind him and he tilted his helm at his guest, raising an optic ridge curiously.</p><p>"Sleep well, doctor?" he asked, voice approaching a purr.</p><p>First Aid squinted at him. "No. Not really."</p><p>Vortex skipped across the room, grabbed a chair and spun it back in front of the berth, turning it around and sitting in it backwards. He leaned his elbows against the back of the chair and set his face in his hands. </p><p>"Tell me about yourself, Doc."</p><p>First Aid stared at him. "What?"</p><p>"You," Vortex said, shifting to poke him on the faceplate where his nose might have been, "What's your story?" </p><p>"Why do you want to know?" First Aid asked, baffled, "Is this some kind of bizarre interrogation."</p><p>Vortex laughed. "Nah. You'd be spitting energon through a straw if if was. I'm just curious."</p><p>First Aid frowned behind his mask. "that doesn't make any sense."</p><p>"What doesn't make any sense?"</p><p>"Spitting energon through a straw," First Aid clarified, "Why would I have a straw? What's the implication in that threat?"</p><p>Vortex looked strangely put out. "Oh, uh. I don't know."</p><p>First Aid considered him another moment before relenting. "I was forged in Kaon, actually."</p><p>Vortex whistled. "One of the first five! How'd you end up on the red side then, huh?"</p><p>"I didn't pick a side at first at all," First Aid admitted, "I was sympathetic to Megatron's cause before the violence really got going, but even when I wasn't on board with him anymore I wasn't exactly cozy with the Autobots either. I might have been forged in a high caste, but I spent plenty of time fixing up empties from the gutters. I guess I really wasn't on anyone's side until the big shift started and Megatron really got going. Optimus was already Prime by then."</p><p>"Fascinating," Vortex tittered, "What was medical school like?"</p><p>"Fun," First Aid answered, "I mean, a lot of work, but the engaging kind. I liked med school."</p><p>"Any hobbies?" the Decepticon pressed, "What do you do when you aren't doctoring?"</p><p>"I like action stories, and I actually collect Autobrands- it's really fascinating how they've changed over the years when you compare them." He hesitated. "I try to keep the Decepticon badges, too, when I lose a patient, but those aren't a collection. I just know where they come from and it seems… wrong to smelt them with the rest."</p><p>Vortex eyed him for a moment, and then giggled. "That's very sentimental. You should probably get rid of those, though. We haven't done that in a long time."</p><p>"Really?" First Aid blinked, "But everyone says-"</p><p>"Yeah, yah," Vortex handwaved, rolling his optical display, "Big open secret, no one wants to admit their brand is just dead metal when they think everyone else's is special."</p><p>First Aid grimaced unhappily behind his mask.</p><p>"What about friends?" Vortex pried further, "What are your friends like?"</p><p>"Why do you <em> care? </em>" First Aid asked.</p><p>"Because I like you, obviously."</p><p>First Aid blinked his visor. "Excuse me?"</p><p>"Mmhmm," Vortex nodded emphatically, "Huge crush. Wasn't lying about that part! So I'm curious."</p><p>"That's- you're-" the Autobot stammered, before settling on, "<em>Why?</em>"</p><p>"You don't play the game," Vortex bubbled, as if it were obvious, "Also, you're cute."</p><p>"I don't know how to react to this information," First Aid admitted.</p><p>"Indulge me!" Vortex pleaded dramatically, tipping his chair back, "Do you watch anime?"</p><p>"I've read Naruto."</p><p>Vortex lit up, rotors spinning and aborting, "All of it?"</p><p>"Well, yeah."</p><p>"Eee!" Vortex squealed, giddy and childlike, far flung from the mech he'd spoken to earlier that day, "Oh you <em> have </em> to try <em> DNAngel</em>. I love that one. But not the anime!! Only the manga."</p><p>"Okay," said First Aid, thinking about waiting in this room for days, "Do you have it?"</p><p>"Do I!" Vortex grabbed the datapad and swiped through his library before handing it to him, "Enjoy!"</p><p>"Sure," he agreed, "But, uh- tomorrow. I'm only halfway through a recharge cycle as is."</p><p>Vortex snapped his fingers. "<em>So </em> right! Beauty sleep it is, then." He stood up and kicked over the chair, spinning on his heel to throw himself backward into the hammock. With a clap, the lights shut off.</p><p>First Aid had no idea how to process that entire interaction, but he set the datapad back on the desk and rolled over to finish sleeping.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>First Aid was jostled awake again when the room lurched and he wondered briefly if he would ever get a decent rest on this blasted ship. There was a crash that signalled Vortex had been thrown out of his hammock and he sat up, grumbling in annoyance as the ship lurched again. </p><p>"What the pit is going on?" he snapped into his comm, standing up to leet out the window, "Ah. Be right there."</p><p>"What?" First Aid questioned, "What's happening?"</p><p>"It's your friends!" Vortex chirped, "No worries! Be back soon."</p><p>"Wait, don't-!" </p><p>But Vortex left, locking the door behind him. First Aid's fuel tank rumbled and he scowled. The ship lurched again and he stood up to look outside.</p><p>They were parked on some other podunk planet, the ship under fire from a tiny squad of Autobots outside. First Aid felt his tanks flip in horror as he watched the Decepticon forces from the ship he was on filter out and return fire. </p><p>He tried desperately to comm out, to reach anyone outside and found the frequency jammed. He could only watch, hands and face pressed to the glass as mecha began to fall back, collapse and explode. </p><p>At that point, Vortex burst out of the ship in his alt mode a trip speed, barrel rolling like a madman and transforming midair to dive into the Autobots in his root mode, rotors at full speed. First Aid shut down his visor. </p><p>When he looked out again Vortex had grabbed a blue carformer and transformed, vaulting him high in the air before he dropped him. He exploded on impact with the ground, a burst of flames and scattered parts.</p><p>The rest of the fight was short. The Autobots were outnumbered and hadn't stood a chance from the start. As they started to fall back, Vortex darted out again to repeat his sky dropping trick, only this time he didn't fly nearly as high. The mech he dropped landed hard enough to crush their legs, but a comrade picked them up and finished retreating into the organic jungle.</p><p>First Aid sunk back into the berth and buried his head. He wanted away from this awful place. He hated being useless, standing on the other side of the window while people died and he did nothing. </p><p>Eventually the door opened again, but First Aid didn't move.</p><p>"Hello again, doctor!" Vortex chirped, "Sorry about that."</p><p>"You enjoyed that," First Aid spat, without looking up.</p><p>Vortex laughed. "Well, yeah. It's my job, isn't it? Shouldn't you like what you do?"</p><p>"You shouldn't <em> like </em> slaughtering people. It's sick."</p><p>"Evil, I'd say," Vortex agreed, "In any case, I left one fella alive. Told him to tell his superiors to shoot me a line about you! We'll have you back home in your own bed in two shakes of a turbofox's tail."</p><p>"Fine," First Aid said, voice hoarse, "Thanks." He heard the chair scrape back over.</p><p>"Where were we?" Vortex pondered out loud, "Oh, yeah! Your friends, tell me about your friends!"</p><p>First Aid felt the anger at his situation finally jolt through him like a flash fire and he whipped around. "<em>Fuck </em> you!" </p><p>Vortex pouted. "Oh, come on, don't tease me."</p><p>"Ugh!" First Aid snarled, "I'm not <em> interested! </em>"</p><p>"I know!" Vortex answered, seemingly unbothered, "That's not how the game goes. I just like to imagine."</p><p>First Aid felt like he should be offended, but he was far too busy being confused, trying to parse out what the hell <em> that </em>meant. </p><p>"Pass," he said eventually, anger fading into weariness once more, "I don't want to talk about other people."</p><p>"Hmm, fair," Vortex mumbled, tapping his faceplate, "What about about Primus? Are you a believer?"</p><p>"No," First Aid said, rolling back over to face the wall, "I'm a doctor. I've seen too much to believe in Primus anymore."</p><p>"Funny," Vortex chuckled. First Aid frowned.</p><p>"What's so funny about it?"</p><p>"If Primus was real then, what do you think would be different?"</p><p>"He wouldn't have let the war happen," First Aid answered, "People would die the way they do. Drawn out and horrible. No kind God would let the things I've seen happen."</p><p>"What makes you think that?" </p><p>First Aid frowned again and sat up to squint at him. "What makes me think what?"</p><p>"That Primus wouldn't let the war happen? People suffer?" Vortex asked, visor bright and curious.</p><p>First Aid stared at him. "Because they're… bad things?"</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"A kind god wouldn't let bad things happen to innocent people?"</p><p>"There are no innocent people," Vortex responded, leaning forward so his visor cast a red glow across First Aid's face, "No innocent Cybertronians, at least."</p><p>"You're projecting," First Aid spat.</p><p>"Didn't you notice the plant life here?" Vortex tilted his head toward the window, "Energon fumes are toxic to them. Cybes putting a base here is killing the life on this planet."</p><p>First Aid stared. "No one's doing that on purpose."</p><p>"Have you ever seen an empurata done?" </p><p>First Aid balked. "No. God, no."</p><p>"I have. They don't take them offline first- I wonder what it would feel like, your brain exposed to open air like that as they took you apart piece by piece. That's evil."</p><p>"Yeah!" First Aid exclaimed, "It <em> is! </em> It's sick! And nobody ever deserved having it done <em> to </em> them!"</p><p>"You don't think so?" Vortex inquired. "Just because someone didn't have the opportunity to commit evil acts didn't mean they wouldn't have given the opportunity."</p><p>"Wh-"</p><p>"Look at us, First Aid," Vortex insisted, crawling up to sit on his knees in the chair and lean forward, very serious, "All of us. We burnt Cybertron to an uninhabitable husk. We've destroyed countless planets, species. We invent new ways to torture each other every single day. We're all evil."</p><p>"No, we're not!" First Aid sputtered, "Not everyone is <em> evil! </em> That's insane! The <em> Decepticons </em>are the ones that-"</p><p>"Why do you think the Autobots are any better?" Vortex asked with a concerning honesty, rotors vibrating, "Are your mnemosurgeons innocent? Is torture admissable when your people do it? Putting sparks into shells just to drop them into a firing squad and die before they even have a name? The Autobots don't allow their people to defect either. This isn't a war of good versus evil, First Aid, this is a war of all the demons in Hell fighting for more flames."</p><p>"You're out of your mind," First Aid whispered, "You're delusional."</p><p>"You can look up the file on any Autobot I killed today if you want," Vortex grinned giddily, "We can play a game of count the war crimes."</p><p>"Is that how you justify the sick shit you do?" First Aid demanded, "You tell yourself they <em> deserve </em> it?"</p><p>"Don't they?" Vortex tilted his head to the side, "I'll deserve it too, when someone manages to put me down."</p><p>The flame that had been flickering in First Aid flared again and he launched himself forward, slamming the Decepticon to the ground, chair breaking in two under his weight as he pressed his scalpel against the Decepticon's throat. He giggled manically beneath him.</p><p>"I told you," Vortex continued to laugh, "I'll deserve it, so you can kill me if you want."</p><p>First Aid scowled and swore, shoving himself to his feet and stumbling away, plating burning with anger as he tried to calm himself down. Vortex stayed on the floor, giggling.</p><p>"Nobody else sees it," the helicopter continued, "Nobody else understands. We're already in Hell. We all deserve whatever we get. Somebody has to take responsibility. Somebody has to punish all the bad people."</p><p>"And that's you?!" First Aid demanded, spinning around again. Vortex lolled his head to the side at him.</p><p>"Yeah," he answered, "If I do it, it means people like you don't have to."</p><p>First Aid stared at him. "You're serious."</p><p>"I'm never serious, doc!" Vortex purred, "But I am being honest."</p><p>"What would happen, then," First Aid continued, "If you didn't? If you stopped?"</p><p>Vortex thought about it. "Someone would do it to me, I figure."</p><p>"Are those the only two options?" First Aid felt helpless, suddenly, "Kill or be killed?"</p><p>"I'd say yes," the Decepticon answered, "But I've seen your file. You've never killed anyone, and you've never been killed, either."</p><p>"I don't want to kill people," he said slowly, carefully, "So I don't."</p><p>"Haha. Wish that were me." Vortex heaved a great romantic sigh from the floor. First Aid sat back down on the berth. "Come on, Doc. Let me imagine. Do you like sports? I don't like sports."</p><p>First Aid eyed him for a moment, something strange swirling in his throat, stuck somewhere between resentment and pity. </p><p>"I've never much liked sports," he admitted at length, "But I like doing laps, sometimes."</p><p>"Mmm," Vortex hummed, shutting his visor off, "No wheels. I'd never keep up."</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Give me the burden, give me the blame</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First Aid jolted out of his seat, nearly losing the datapad in his hands when the door slammed open with a bang. </p><p>"Mother<em>fucker!</em>" Vortex snarled, stomping into the room with his fists clenched and rotors flared. He slammed the door shut again as he did, visor flared and vents open. </p><p>"Wh- are you okay?" First Aid stammered.</p><p>"Every goddamn day," Vortex hissed through clenched dentae behind his blast mask, grabbing at his helm as he paced to the end of the short room and then turned to go the other way. "Every fucking day…"</p><p>"Vortex?" First Aid repeated. Vortex didn't look at him, continuing to pace back and forth, spitting curses as he did. First Aid watched him warily, anxiously. This was new behaviour, and new behaviour wasn't good. It was unpredictable. Dangerous.</p><p>"All I do, every day," he snarled, optics unfocused, "I come and I work and I work and I work, and I do my <em> fucking </em> job and what do I get? I pay some other motherfucker's unpaid dues and I pay them in spades and I <em> eat </em> the interest. No one ever <em> fucking </em>listens to me."</p><p>First Aid was growing more and more alarmed as he watched him, visibly worked up, and noticed finally that he was bleeding. </p><p>"Hey," First Aid said, sitting up.</p><p>"I say to him it's not <em> efficient </em> to just start shooting them like this, you have to apply pressure <em> strategically, </em> you have to scare them in <em> stages</em>, you go too <em> fast </em> and they lock up, they make the decision to die, they give up, and once they give up they aren't gonna give you anything, so if you want anything, you gotta work <em> smart. </em> But no, don't listen to the guy who does this for a living, don't listen to <em> him, </em> does he know anything? No, of course not. He's just a stupid helicopter who doesn't know anything at all!"</p><p>"Vortex!" First Aid said, louder, standing. Vortex suddenly froze and snapped his head toward him, visor bright like a wild animal. He didn't speak. "You're hurt."</p><p>Vortex squinted at him, as if he didn't completely understand, before he touched his forehead, where energon was leaking from a blunt force wound down his visor and over his mask. He lowered his hand and looked at his blood slicked fingers with a concerning lack of comprehension.</p><p>"Vortex," First Aid said again, slowly, touching Vortex's wrist, and when he didn't react, pulling his hand away touch his temple, "You're hurt."</p><p>Vortex stared at him for another few seconds before clarity bloomed across his visor and he looked at his hand again. "Oh," he said.</p><p>"Do you…" First Aid began, "Do you need medical attention?" </p><p>Vortex took a step back, and then touched his head again. "...Yeah. Yes. I do. I need that." </p><p>First Aid studied him for a moment, making notes in a new file. Erratic behaviour. Difficulty responding to stimuli. Dissassociative? </p><p>"Sit," First Aid ordered, gathering himself up and engaging his medic voice. Vortex sat down on the berth immediately and then looked somewhat surprised that he had. "Medical port." </p><p>Vortex offered up his wrist in silence and First Aid connected, reading through damage reports and data streams before he disconnected and returned to the head injury. No serious processor damage, but it did look like he had some bruising and heat-swelling. The external armour casing had split from the impact, but it didn't look like a bladed weapon was involved. He would have put his shanix on a fist. </p><p>"I can't fix this here," First Aid announced, "I need more equipment. Do you have a medical bay?" </p><p>"It's small," Vortex answered, "Not good."</p><p>"I'm sure it will do," First Aid answered, offering him a hand to stand up, "Let's go."</p><p>Vortex stood, wobbling, but didn't release Aid's hand, letting it fall to his side, pulling him along as he keyed open the door and stepped into the hall. The medic stared at their hands as they walked, trying to decide if he wanted to rip his hand away, or if that would cause more trouble for no real gain. Before he could decide, they stopped in front of another door the helicopter keyed open. </p><p>"It's not very big," Vortex told him, almost apologetic. First Aid scanned the tiny room, little more than a walk in closet with a medical berth, with dismay, and then packed that away to do what had to be done.</p><p>"Up," he told him, and Vortex followed his instruction, sitting up on the berth and staring vaguely into the distance. </p><p>First Aid skimmed through the equipment available on the ratcheted metal shelves that lined the medibay walls. Some outdated tools, replacement fluids, a few scattered vaccines and antivenoms. The collection seems incohesive, random, less like an efficiently stocked medibay and more like a room with whatever medical equipment they happened to be in possession of. He didn't see any indication they kept medical files at all. The room disturbed him, but he packed that, too, away for later, and retrieved a diagnostic machine that would give him a more detailed readout than his own software.</p><p>"Medical port," First Aid told him, dusting off the machine and untangling the mass of cords from its back. Vortex cocked his head at him.</p><p>"I already did that."</p><p>"Again."</p><p>"Oh," said Vortex, and opened his wrist, offering it to him. First Aid plugged him into the diagnostic scanner and then himself, immediately going over the fresh flood of data. </p><p>First Aid frowned behind his blast mask. "You don't have a concussion," he said, confused, before he glanced back up at Vortex's unfocused optical display. </p><p>"Okay," said Vortex. First Aid hesitated, then opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by a voice behind him.</p><p>"Vortex!" Onslaught boomed, making First Aid nearly drop the equipment he was holding, jumping and fumbling to keep his grip on it, "What the fuck did I tell you about letting me know before you let a prisoner wander around the ship?"</p><p>Vortex's optical display snapped back into focus and his whole body shifted in the way he was holding himself, sitting up and leaning to the side. "I'm literally right here, big boss, it's not like he's <em> wandering around</em>."</p><p>"Is it so hard to shoot me a ping?" Onslaught groused, "Believe it or not I <em> try </em> to keep tabs on what happens in <em> my </em>ship."</p><p>"Ooh, sorry," Vortex pouted, sticking a finger directly into his head injury with a laugh, fingers folded inward to mimic the shape of a gun, "I think maybe my comm unit is damaged? Somebody clocked me a good one, you know."</p><p>"Give it a rest," Onslaught groaned, "I know how hard I hit you. You're fine." He shifted his focus to First Aid. "Hurry it up. I don't wanna see you again if I don't have to, Autobot." </p><p>"I'll be done when I'm done," First Aid fired back.</p><p>Onslaught snorted and then glanced back at Vortex. "He's still just as firey as when we found him. You're losing your touch." With that, he  turned away from the door and continued down the hall, leaving them alone again. </p><p>Vortex sat back, leaning against his hands on the medical berth, kicking his legs beneath the table. "Losing my fucking touch," he mumbled, mostly to himself. First Aid ignored him and returned the diagnostic scanner to the shelf where he found it, exchanging it for a mini-torch. </p><p>"Lie down," he ordered, "and try not to move. This won't take long."</p><p>"As you say, doc," Vortex sighed, doing as he'd been told.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. How Many Hail Mary's is it Gonna Take?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First Aid was trying to focus on what he was reading. <em> Trying </em> being the key word. </p><p>He glanced up again as Vortex twisted around, trying to jam a brush into his rotor housing. It made a disturbing <em> clank </em> and he pulled it back, twisting harder with an intent, focused expression.</p><p>"I can't watch this any longer," First Aid announced, clicking the datapad off, "Give me the brush."</p><p>"I can <em> get </em> it myself!" Vortex snapped, and visibly winced when he jammed it in again. </p><p>"For Primus's sake," First Aid grumbled, before he stood up, grabbed Vortex by the shoulders and sat him down on the edge of the berth. He tore the brush from his hands and crawled behind him to navigate the bristle brush into the labyrinthian mechanism. </p><p>"I <em> can </em> do it myself," Vortex muttered. </p><p>"Yeah, yeah, sure," First Aid replied. The inside of his rotor housing looked like it had never been properly cleaned in his life. "Blades can't do it himself either."</p><p>"Your gestaltmate?" </p><p>"I have to clean his all the time," First Aid replied, tilting the brush toward a particularly gross gear housing, "You guys aren't seekers. You can't just fly through a rainstorm and call it a day." </p><p>Vortex huffed, but sounded a little less annoyed than he had a moment prior. He settled into silence, subtly leaning back into what First Aid suspected was his first thorough cleaning ever. </p><p>The moment was almost nice, until it was interrupted by a thunderous banging at the door. They both jumped, him hard enough to twist a wire he hadn't meant to and Vortex yelped, arching his back.</p><p>"Vortex!" Onslaught's voice called, "If you're done fucking the prisoner I need you for rounds!" </p><p>First Aid watched Vortex tense hard and shake his head.</p><p>"I'm not-!" Vortex started, but, thoroughly fed up, First Aid cut him off, pulling the brush free as he slammed a fist into the wall with a <em> thump. </em></p><p><em>"Ahh!</em>" he yelled in his very best fucked out voice,"No, stop, don't touch me there!" </p><p>Vortex stared at him, visor flared in confusion.</p><p>"Christ, Vort, are you really-"</p><p>"Oh, god!" First aid cried again, kicking his foot against the berth to make a rhythmic thumping sound, "Oh, god, yes, yes, Vortex! Please!"</p><p>Vortex's visor shifted, glittering with amusement. He turned to bang his own fist against the wall. "Oh, <em> fuck </em> yes, Doc, say my name again!" First Aid shivered at the way he growled the line, fuel tank tingling in his belly.</p><p>"Oh, <em> Vortex!" </em> First Aid howled. </p><p>"For fuck's sake," Onslaught groaned, "Comm me when you're done."</p><p>They continued their little charade until the sound of footsteps vanished down the hall and they couldn't hear them anymore. First Aid leaned toward the door, listening to the silence, before he burst into laughter. Vortex followed suit, and within moments, they were both laughing manically, tears in the corners of his visor.</p><p>"Oh, man, that was great," First Aid giggled, "I can't believe that worked."</p><p>"I can't believe you did that!" Vortex wheezed.</p><p>"He seems like an afthole," First Aid coughed, wiping at his visor as he straightened up, "He can go frag himself." </p><p>Vortex tittered with laughter again. "God. <em> Wow. </em> Thank you for the assist, anyway." </p><p>"Thanks for not actually raping me, I guess," First Aid snorted, leaning back. He rolled the words over on his tongue, tasting how bizarre they were. How did he even end up here?</p><p>"Ha- well. You're welcome," Vortex beamed, "Now, if you'll excuse me, my crush just moaned my name like a pornstar and I need to take a cold shower before I die." </p><p>First Aid's faceplate lit up and he shifted, realizing that Vortex's temperature <em> had </em> begun to tick upward. "Oh. Sorry."</p><p>"Don't worry about it," Vortex waved a hand as he stood. First Aid watched him flutter his rotors as he did, cycling the mechanisms that made them move. He was holding his shoulders so much lighter than he had been before. "It was nice."</p><p>First Aid grabbed his wrist before he could move away. Vortex stopped, lingered, looked back at him, the question unspoken. </p><p>First Aid looked at him again. Really looked at him. He was smaller than Blades, smaller than the average Decepticon entirely. Corpse-grey and accented with teals and purples, bright red visor the most intense First Aid had ever seen.</p><p>"It was nice," First Aid repeated, without thinking. He wasn't even sure why he did. Vortex looked down at his hand on his wrist and back up.</p><p>"Okay," he said, sounding confused, apprehensive. </p><p>First Aid wasn't sure what had suddenly come over him. Pity? Sympathy? Actual genuine affection? He had no idea. It was bizarre, unwarranted. Nonsensical.</p><p>He stood up and yanked Vortex toward him by the wrist, snapping open his faceplate to kiss him, body moving without his instruction, with his permission. </p><p>"H-" Vortex began, startled, but the second First Aid <em> licked </em> up the seamline of his mouth plate he slid it aside and grabbed his face to kiss him back, shoving his tongue between his parted lips.</p><p>First Aid scrabbled at his back, grabbing for his rotor housing to stick his fingers in <em> just </em>the right place to-</p><p><em> "Ah!" </em> Vortex gasped, open mouthed, going rigid. First Aid took advantage of this to yank him back downward and onto the berth on top of him. </p><p>He jammed his knee upward between the copter's thighs and against his array, already warm with interest. He rut down against him, moaning into his mouth as his hands ran up First Aid's sides and over his chest. </p><p>"I don't understand," Vortex panted, though he didn't seem to have the will to relent, grinding down against his leg.</p><p>"Me neither," First Aid replied, and palmed blindly for the other mech's panel, pulling his knee away. It opened immediately beneath his touch and he sunk two fingers into the valve that awaited him, sticky with lubricant. </p><p>"Fuck," Vortex gasped, widening his legs to encourage him to touch him more. His spike pressurized against First Aid's wrist, twitching nerdily, and he let his own array open.</p><p>"Come on," First Aid growled, tugging at his shoulder with his free hand, "Fuck me!"</p><p>He watched Vortex's visor glint and the Decepticon sat up and grabbed both of his wrists, slamming them down over his head. First Aid arched his spinal strut and gasped, letting his legs open.</p><p>Vortex didn't take his time. He seemed like a mech possessed, like he was on a time limit waiting for a bomb to go off as he reached one hand down blindly to grab himself and line up with First Aid's, open valve. He snapped in with one quick thrust that had First Aid gasping as the electric shock of it went through him. The copter didn't slow down, hefting his hips up to bury himself deeper, and with his free wrists First Aid wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him closer, whimpering and mewling and writhing. </p><p>First Aid dug his heels into the other mech's back, thrusting back up against him as the electricity that had gone through him built, a tumble of lightning bolts that knotted and pulled tight in his gut. Vortex leaned forward, rutting hard downward into him, the shift in position driving the head of his spike into the doctor's ceiling node and he <em> wailed, </em> wanton and uncontrolled. </p><p>The knot snapped like cut thread and he clawed at his back as he came, covering their mashed together fronts with transfluid. Vortex made a surprised, breathy sound as he shuddered and jerked forward abortively, rhythm lost, and followed him over the edge, filling up his insides.</p><p>First Aid panted, legs slowly going slack, untightening their dead man's grip on Vortex as he came down, frame pinging as metal cooled and cycling vents roaring. </p><p>"That was-" he started.</p><p>"Shh," Vortex cut him off, leaning heavy on his hands, head hanging as he cycled his vents, "I'm not ready to go back yet."</p><p>First Aid blinked. "Go back where?"</p><p>"Not yet," Vortex repeated, without moving. First Aid frowned uncertainly. He didn't know what that meant. The copter was still firmly seated inside him, even if he was starting to go soft. He didn't have any desire to make him move yet, though. </p><p>Vortex went down on his elbows and then flat on top of him, face buried in his shoulder, fan speed finally beginning to cycle downward. </p><p>"Are you good?" First Aid asked finally. </p><p>"Good," Vortex repeated distantly. </p><p>The Decepticon didn't seem to want to get up. First Aid hadn't exactly pegged him as a cuddler, but he reached up hesitantly to set his arms on his back and he sighed. </p><p>"Seriously," First Aid prompted again, "Are you okay?"</p><p>"I'm just waiting to go back," Vortex explained. First Aid narrowed his visor.</p><p>"Back where?"</p><p>"You know. Back."</p><p>"I have no idea what you're trying to tell me."</p><p>Vortex sat up, still seated inside him, peering down at him with an intent expression. First Aid blinked and suddenly the copter grabbed his face, tilting it side to side as he narrowed his visor before it flared wide. </p><p>"Oh, shit," he said, "Was that real?" </p><p>"What?" First Aid balked, "Of course it was real!"</p><p>"Oh, <em> shit," </em>Vortex repeated, then giggled madly, "Oh my god. That was real. Can I kiss you again?" </p><p>"Yes?" </p><p>Vortex's mouth was on him immediately, more possessive than before but somehow less insistent. He ran their glossae together, tracing circles on his back until he pulled away again. </p><p>"Did I do good?" Vortex blurted.</p><p>"Yes?" First Aid repeated. What a bizarre question. Vortex beamed, fangs glinting before he rolled his hips and First Aid realized he was getting hard again. "You wanna go again?" </p><p>Vortex's mouth slammed back against his, pushing him so far forward as he grabbed his hips and hefted them up that he was practically upside down. First Aid's processor swam, overwhelmed, kind of confused but deeply aroused. He rut upward into the Decepticon's grip and earned himself a moan that he intended to get much, much more of.</p>
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